


Things of Beauty

by jujitsuelf



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promt fill for - SGA - Ronon Dex - Quiet moments on the run</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things of Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended
> 
> ***
> 
> Prompt left by muccamukk at fic_promptly

Ronon’s a warrior. He’s been a warrior all his life, even as a child he knew his place was among martial men. He likes it, the fierce rush of adrenaline at the beginning of a fight, the desperate struggle to drag victory from the jaws of defeat, the slow flood of joy which came with realizing he was still alive and his foe was vanquished.

Sateda was a civilized society but they understood the value of those willing to lay down their own lives in order to protect others. Not that there was much anyone could do when the Wraith came to cull. Physical strength didn’t mean much when it could be sucked out of a body in a few heartbeats.

He missed his home. The roads, the buildings, the people. He’d stopped wondering why the Wraith chose him as a Runner. It was done and that was that, driving himself crazy asking why wouldn’t help. All he could focus on now was staying one step ahead of the bastards who believed hunting humans across entire galaxies was sport.

But even in the depths of despair, knowing his homeworld was nothing more than a moldering ruin and everyone he cared about was dead, Ronon could still appreciate the rising of an unfamiliar sun.

Warm, bright light flooded the cave he’d rested in the night before. It was different to the sunlight on Sateda, softer, less harsh, glowing rather than fiercely illuminating like the sun he knew so well. He turned his face toward it and watched as it crept closer to his tattered boots. It would soon light up the entire cave and he’d have to move on. Wraith could be coming for him.

The Wraith knew Runners chose such places to hide, they probably considered allowing their human prey a night of rest now and then to be a gift. Hatred curled deep and cold in Ronon’s stomach. One day he’d get that damned tracker out of his back and then...oh, then he wouldn’t rest until every Wraith in the galaxy was dead. Slaughter wouldn’t even begin to describe what he’d do.

He basked in the glory of bloody daydreams as the sunlight inched up his legs, gently warming every muscle. When it reached his hands, he looked down at them, faintly amazed to see that his skin shone in the golden light.

Ronon smiled. As long as he could find beauty in the galaxy, the Wraith hadn’t broken him. And as long as he wasn’t broken, he could fight. One day, he’d be the victor once again.


End file.
